


A moment that changed the world a little

by Thei



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Child Abuse, Gen, Neil Hargrove Being an Asshole, Steve accidentally overhearing, Violence, and Realizing things, it's just the moment when steve finds out, this is not a relationshippy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22018804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thei/pseuds/Thei
Summary: Steve accidentally overhears something that, in retrospect, makes a helluva lot of sense.
Relationships: (pre-harringrove if you squint), Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 37
Kudos: 275





	A moment that changed the world a little

It was chilly in the air, for being this late in spring, and there were dark clouds in the sky that promised rain. Standing here, outside the Hargrove-Mayfield house on Old Cherry Road, Steve sighed and wondered when he became such a pushover.

He didn’t use to be. In fact, he used to be the one to push other people around. Not that that was any better, but at least back then he didn’t fold immediately when someone asked him to do something and batted their eyelashes at him.

Okay, so _technically_ there hadn’t been any batting eyelashes involved. He’d been roped into spending his Saturday at Dustin’s place along with the rest of the kids, but he’d regretted it almost immediately when it turned out they were spending the day working on some science project for school. He’d been sitting there for what felt like hours, not understanding most of what they were going on about, and he would have left early on if Dustin and Max hadn’t made sure to include him in their conversations now and then.

Still, it was almost a relief when Max had asked him to please, _please_ _Steve_ , go to her house and bring back a specific screwdriver from her room.

“Don’t you have a screwdriver here?” Steve asked and raised his eyebrow at Dustin, because what home didn’t have a screwdriver lying around?

“Not one that fit _these_ screws, Steve”, Dustin insisted. “Max says the one she uses for her skateboard might work, and we _really_ need it.”

Steve put up a token protest, mostly because the couch he was sitting in was comfortable. “Can’t you call there and have someone bring it over?”

“I tried”, Max said and crossed her arms over her chest. “No one’s home. Mom’s visiting grandma for the weekend, and Neil had a thing with work, I think.”

“And Billy?”

She rolled her eyes at him as if that was the stupidest question she’d ever heard. “What part of ‘no one’s home’ did you not get?”

Steve’s mouth dropped open, and he was just about to inform her that insulting someone when you wanted them to do you a favor wasn’t the best course of action, when Dustin got between them and tilted his head to the side like an especially dorky puppy. “Please, Steve? You’re the only one with a car, and we should really finish this today because Lucas has that thing with his parents tomorrow and we can’t be here either because mom’s having people over and –“

And Steve _was_ really sick of sitting here and feeling like an outsider. He could use some air, or whatever.

“Yeah yeah”, he said. “I’ll get your stupid screwdriver.”

That had earned him a bright smile and a ‘thanks Steve! You’re the best!’ that _almost_ made it worth it. Max lent him the key to her house and told him where he’d find it (“In a small tool kit under the bed”), and he’d left them there, already back in a discussion about whether magnetism would affect their final results.

It’d been somewhat of a relief to leave, but now when he was standing here in front of the door to Max’s house, it was starting to feel a little weird. No one was home – there were no cars in the driveway or the carport, the door was locked, and no lights were on inside. And even though he was there for a reason – even though an actual resident of the house had given him a key and permission to enter – it felt strange to just walk into someone else’s house on his own. He’d even parked on the street, because it felt too weird to take up space in someone else’s driveway, even if they weren’t home.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself. The faster he found the screwdriver, the faster he’d be out of here. So he climbed the metal stairs to the back door and put the key in the lock. He had to wiggle it a bit before he got it open, and when he did he walked across the threshold, silently closing the door behind him.

“Hello?” he said, just to be safe. No answer. Everything was quiet, and kind of dark. The only light came from the grey light that filtered in through the windows.

Fourth door on the left, Max had said, which was stupid; the fourth door was the _last_ door, so she could have just said that. Steve opened it and went inside, and realized right away that he’d stepped into the wrong room.

A thirteen year old girl did not have posters with metal bands on the walls, or an ashtray on the side table, or empty beer cans scattered everywhere. No thirteen year old girl – even if it was Max – would be caught dead using an empty crate as a vanity.

Steve realized with a jolt of panic that he’d mistakenly ended up in _Billy’s_ room. And even while realizing that he should leave, _right now_ , he couldn’t resist looking around. Who could blame him, really? The guy had beaten him unconscious not even six months ago, and Steve hadn’t actually heard of anyone who’d been in Billy’s house before, let alone his room.

It was a surprisingly normal room, if somewhat messy. (Which, honestly, was kind of normal for a teenage boy, too. Steve himself only cleaned his room when his mother was due back, which happened with less and less frequency these days.)

There were a surprising number of hair products on the makeshift vanity, and Steve was pleased to find them – he’d always known that Billy had to be doing something to his hair to make it look that way. There was also a bottle of cologne, which Steve picked up before really reflecting on it. It smelled … a little overwhelming, maybe, but not unpleasant.

Just as he put the bottle down, he heard steps and voices from outside the house, and in his surprise he knocked over a can of hairspray, which felled a couple of other bottles. Steve’s heart was in his throat as he fumbled to pick them up; suddenly _very_ aware that he was in the wrong room – _Billy’s_ room – and that any explanation he had to offer as to _why_ was going to be insufficient.

He heard a key in a lock, then a man’s voice down the hall as the door must have opened. Panicking, and not thinking further than that he didn’t want to get his face smashed in again, Steve looked around the room in desperation. There was a closet with the door slightly ajar in the other end of the room, and Steve rushed over to it while heavy footsteps got closer to Billy’s room.

Steve just had time to jump into the closet – he stepped on a pair of sneakers and had to bat a couple of clothes hangers away from his face – and pull the door shut before he heard the door to the room open and someone walked in.

“– anyone could have walked right in”, a deep man’s voice said from the hallway, “Could have robbed us blind!”

Billy’s voice came next, surprisingly close to the closet, and Steve held his breath and froze – afraid to move in case it would alert anyone to his presence.

“Not like we have anything worth stealing.” It was muttered low, and probably not meant to be heard by the other man – who was probably Billy’s dad. What was his name again? Neil?

Apparently he had followed Billy into the room, though, because Steve could hear him clearly even though he was speaking quietly.

“You and Max left the house last this morning. It was _your responsibility_ to lock the door.”

“I _did_ , dad”, Billy said, and something in his voice made Steve wish he could see the look on his face, because he sounded … pleading, almost. Steve was half considering leaning forward and trying to see if he could peek out through the crack in the door, when there was a loud smack. It made Steve flinch in the dark of the closet.

“So why was the door open?” Billy’s dad – Neil – said.

Billy took a breath. “I don’t know, Max must have skated home or somethi–“

Another smack. Steve realized, with an icy sort of dread, what the sound was – it was skin against skin. A slap, or a hit.

“Your sister is not supposed to skate anywhere. It’s your job to drive her.”

“She was supposed to be at that Henderson kid’s house! I’m picking her up at five! I can’t watch her every minute of the day!”

Steve was tensing up for another smack, but instead he jumped back when something slammed into the closet door, making it rattle. Steve reached out a hand – instinctively, to ward off the threat – but his palm only met with the wood of the door, even if he knocked a clothes hanger down as he did it.

Luckily, no one on the outsider took any notice of it – since someone had just been pushed up against the door. And Steve could guess who.

“The way I see it”, Neil’s voice said, calmly – _too_ calmly, “you either forgot to lock the door this morning, or you let your sister skate all over town by herself.”

The door creaked when someone added more pressure to it, and Billy grunted. But he didn’t speak. Steve held his breath, heart hammering away in his chest.

“Either way, you’ve acted very irresponsible. So, what’s it gonna be?”

A smack, quickly followed by another. “Billy.” Another. “What’s it gonna be?” _Another_.

Steve’s palm was still against the door – he could _feel_ it every time Billy moved, and the way he struggled. Neil must have held him there, because Billy didn’t move away from the door – except for a second, but that was only to be roughly pushed against it again. Steve heard – and felt – his head smack against the wood, and pulled his hand away from the door as if burned.

“ _Answer me_!”

“I–“ Billy said, “The door. I forgot to lock the door.” A pause, in which no one seemed to be breathing. “I’m sorry. Sir.”

That was a lie. He did _not_ forget to lock the door. _Steve_ was the one who’d unlocked it, only minutes ago. That thought made Steve’s stomach clench uncomfortably, but he couldn’t think about that now.

A disappointed sigh, and then the sound of rustling fabric as Neil took a step back. Billy exhaled and stood up straight, so his back wasn’t at the door. He didn’t move further away though – Steve would have heard it.

“We’ve talked about this, Billy.”

“Yes, sir.”

No one moved or said anything for what felt as an eternity, but was probably only a couple of seconds. Then there was a dull thud, followed by Billy making a sound as if all the air in his lungs had just been forced out of his body. Steve jumped back in the closet, pressing up against the wall, and Billy dropped to the floor. There was a thwack as his knees hit, and a drawn out wheeze before Billy started coughing.

“Don’t do it again”, Neil said.

Billy tried to speak twice, between coughs and gasps, before finally managing a “No, sir. ‘m sorry.”

Steve heard Neil start to leave, but the steps slowed at the door and he must have turned back and given Billy some kind of _look_ , because Billy shut his mouth with an audible clack of teeth.

“I’m going out. Go pick up your sister. I want you both home before I get back.”

The only thing Steve could hear after that was Billy’s breathing – fast, shallow breaths through his nose – and he wasn’t even aware that Neil had left until he heard the back door slam shut.

Billy released a shuddering breath, then, and let out an honest-to-God _sob_ , and Steve suddenly felt like the lowest of the low just for being here and hearing it. For _witnessing_ this – even if it was without actually seeing anything.

Without really knowing why – perhaps to distance himself from it, or maybe to give Billy privacy – he put his fingers in his ears and screwed his eyes shut, even though it was already dark in the closet. It was almost enough to let him pretend he was somewhere else; _anywhere_ else. He could hear his own silent breaths, and the blood rushing through his veins. But he couldn’t hear Billy.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when a vibration in the wall behind his back alerted him to a door being slammed. Cautiously, he removed his fingers from his ears and stared straight ahead, listening. Steps on the metal stairs. A couple of seconds later, a car door opening and closing. A car starting, and then the familiar rumble of the Camaro’s engine.

The car drove off, and the house was silent. For a second – or maybe an hour, Steve couldn’t really tell – Steve just stood there, staring out into the darkness. Wondering if what he heard really happened, or if he somehow imagined the whole thing.

Then he remembered the sound Billy made when he was – punched in the gut? something like that, anyway – and the closet suddenly felt stifling. He barged out into Billy’s room, looking around himself wildly, but it was empty of people. Everything looked like it had before Steve had hidden himself, and it felt … _wrong_. It was wrong that everything looked the _same_ , when Steve felt as if the world had somehow changed in a matter of minutes.

He glanced back at the closet, and saw that the poster that was taped to the door had been crinkled, and one corner of it had ripped off. The sight, for some reason, made him nauseous, and suddenly he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Screw Max’s screwdriver. Screw the kids’ science project. Steve needed to _leave_. He never should have come here in the first place.

He bypassed all the other doors in the hallway – and oh, look, there was a broom closet that he didn’t see, that was probably the door he missed – and almost ran outside. He made sure to _lock the damn door_ behind him – because _‘you’ve acted very irresponsibly’_ – and did not break down until he got in the front seat of his car. Then, he started shaking.

“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself. “What the _fuck_?”

He ran a hand through his hair and found that he was sweating. His heart was still beating so fast in his chest that it felt as if it was trying to beat its way out of his ribcage. His throat hurt, and even though he was breathing fast he felt as if he wasn’t getting enough air.

It made _sense_ , was the thing. The way Billy was, the way he acted. He was violent and aggressive, and controlling towards Max, and that made him an asshole for sure. But Steve suddenly remembered how Billy would show up in school with bruises and blame it on getting in a fight, or how he actually wore his shirts buttoned up, some days when he didn’t have basketball practice. It all made _so much sense_ , and Steve couldn’t believe that he hadn’t gotten it until now. Or yes, actually he could believe it – he knew he could be a bit dense at times – but why had no one else seen it? How could they not?

He was barely aware of driving back to Dustin’s place, too busy thinking, and he only realized when he got there that Billy was probably there, too. Steve parked on the street and exited his car just as Billy exited the house, holding Max’s arm in a firm grip. She was glaring at him and protesting, and so were the rest of the kids who were watching from the doorway.

“You said we had until five!”

“Yeah, well now you don’t.”

“Why do we have to go home already, mom’s not even home so it’s not like we’ll have family dinner!”

Billy tugged her along, and Steve saw the way he clenched his jaw.

“Because I _say_ so, Maxine. Now _move_!”

They were almost at the Camaro when Billy looked up and spotted Steve walking across the lawn. His eyes darkened, and Steve could do nothing but stare at him. He didn’t look any different than usual. Perhaps the left side of his face was a little redder than it used to be, but it wasn’t enough for anyone to notice. If Steve hadn’t heard what he’d heard, he wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

Now, though? Now he was trying to remember how many slaps there’d been. Now he was wondering if Billy’s skin under his shirt had a developing bruise on it. Now he was wondering if it hurt when Billy drew in a short breath to spit out, “What the _fuck_ are you looking at, Harrington?”

“Nothing”, Steve said, and it was enough for Billy to back off. Enough for him to get in his car with Max and drive off.

But it wasn’t true. Steve wasn’t looking at nothing. Steve was looking at _Billy_ , and it felt as if for the very first time, he was also _seeing him_.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, read through a whopping amount of ONE times before posting, and written purely for my own enjoyment. (Self-indulgent writing is the best, and I've had this scene in my head for months. Needed to get it out of my head, I guess.)


End file.
